


Chicken Soup for the Holmes

by pocketsebastian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Doctor John, Nurse John, SHERLOCK HOLMES PUT YOUR TROUSERS ON, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketsebastian/pseuds/pocketsebastian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is sick. And stubborn. And...well, John's not to pleased at any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken Soup for the Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> I told my followers on Tumblr to send me two characters, a situation, and a word. A sick!Sherlock was requested.

Elevated temperature, vomiting, lethargy, distinct mood change. All the evidence pointed to one thing.

Sherlock was sick with the flu.

“It’s chicken soup!” John protested exasperatedly in response to Sherlock’s question of ‘What the HELL is this?’. Apparently a sick Sherlock was worse than a Sherlock without a case. John had thought that humanly impossible.

Sherlock. Was. A twat.

“I’m not eating it,” Sherlock objected, pushing the bowl of soup away with a look of disgust. “I’m perfectly fine-” the words broke for a second for a long yawn, “I just need a case.” His hand quickly, or as quickly as the sick man could manage, shot out to grab at his mobile, but thankfully with him being sick Sherlock was far too slow, making John just fast enough to grab the phone before Sherlock managed to.

Making disapproving tutting noises, John waved the phone in his hand. “No cases. I already phoned Greg. He’s to leave you alone for at least a week, or until I tell him you’re well.” John’s words earned a long groan from Sherlock, which John at first thought was disappointment but in actuality ended in a trip to the loo whilst John took the vomit covered sleepwear and chucked them into the wash, his face pinched up in minor disgust.

John quickly learned that caring for an ill Sherlock was nigh impossible.

Flu medicine was spat right back up. The laptop, which John had secured and put in his room (or he thought he had), was found hidden amongst the pillows that had been propped up on the couch. Food was either thrown up (against Sherlock’s will) or refused to be eaten.

Bribery, thankfully, seemed to be the only thing that worked. A deal was struck. If Sherlock complied with John’s care, Sherlock could do whatever he wanted in the flat for a week straight.

John sorely regretted this.

For the week after Sherlock was better, pants (and clothing in general) was optional for the detective.

‘An experiment’, Sherlock called it.


End file.
